


Concubine

by Eralk Fang (EralkFang)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dirty Talk, Emperor Hux, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Possessive Sex, Sexual Roleplay, Slave Bikini
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 02:45:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7296352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EralkFang/pseuds/Eralk%20Fang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hux casually reaches up to free Kylo from the collar, but Kylo catches his wrist. His long, thick-knuckled fingers easily overlap around Hux’s wrist, even over his glove and the crimson cuff of his tunic.  Kylo’s dark eyes search Hux’s as his face flushes.</p><p>They have been through a great deal together. The ruin of the Resistance, the defiance of Snoke, the rise of an Empire. It’s changed them, both on their own and in the ways that they come together. But even after all of that, Kylo still has trouble asking for what he needs.</p><p>But Hux is a benevolent ruler to those who deserve it, and this is the man who won his throne for him. He will give him everything he needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Concubine

**Author's Note:**

> Well, [kdazrael](http://kdazrael.tumblr.com/) and I got to talking about this [.gif set](http://eralkfang.tumblr.com/post/145851570273/kvlord-adam-driver-in-what-if-the-f-word)… and this is the result.
> 
> Hux's throne looks a little something like [this](http://www.carpentersworkshopgallery.com/Media/Work/782/avl_solobrutalist_01-cropsq-450x0.jpg?1463072405).

At long last, the Imperial Court welcomes its final audience of the day—the delegation from Pantora. Normally, the Emperor would welcome the Pantoran delegation with open arms and an invitation to dinner. But for the first time, Pantora is being represented at the Imperial Court not by Baroness Ompho, but by the newly appointed Chairman Chiiko.

What a pity, Hux thinks, rubbing his bearded chin, about the civil war. He’d enjoyed working with the Baroness. He’d even preferred her company to most of the ambassadors, politicians, and sycophants that pay homage to his court. She, at least, had a sense of style—emphasis, unfortunately, on the _had_. Although, Hux reflects, given her proclivity for elaborate headdress, there’s every possibility it survived the separation of her head from her shoulders.

Chairman Chiiko, in contrast, is the kind of man who eschews personal adornment as luxury, vanity, and sloth. Like many Pantoran men of advanced age, the chairman is tall and pinched-looking, like someone yanked him forward by the nose during an important stage of his development and he never quite recovered. His mouth is pressed together into a grim line, but Hux can detect some nerves in the way his eyes dart around the throne room. His assistant, a plump and simply dressed young woman, is more overtly nervous. In fact, she looks a little nauseous, her blue edges blanching slightly. 

Many first time visitors to both Imperial City and the Imperial Court are. They’re not sure what to expect, given the Emperor's reputation for both order and excess.

The throne room is a perfect example of that alleged contradiction. Its lines are clean, even sharp, but its size is expansive. Floors and walls alike are all constructed out of Wayland marble, cannibalized from the remnants of Palpatine’s own Imperial Palace, the thin veins of gold in the white marble gleaming like pulsing veins when suddenly caught by the sun. The monumental windows carved out of the western wall admit great tracts of sunlight, carving the floor into discreet sections. The only dark things in the room are the two Imperial banners flanking the throne.

The throne itself, elevated on a platform high above the level of the court, is embedded in a great, horizontal slab of matching Wayland marble meant to resemble the great toppled henges of Ach Too, where the Emperor claimed his throne. Originally, Hux wanted to use the actual thing itself, but that henge is perpetually warm where Snoke’s blood soaked into it. Over the course of the last year, Hux has become more comfortable with the strange and supernatural, but he draws the line at ruling from a haunted seat. 

The henge is still in Imperial City, kept in the private quarters of the Emperor’s Hand. And, in any case, it was the wrong color for the throne room. 

The throne in which the Emperor reclines is not carved of marble, but a more forgiving synthetic material, although it’s impossible to tell the difference with the naked eye. The left arm blends seamlessly into the slab beyond it, but the right arm and the back of the throne are raised to allow the Emperor to, when necessary, relax. The right arm even inclines into the seat, allowing Hux to lounge imperiously against it.

The throne, in its henge, might resemble a stair, but there are none between the Emperor and his audience. There is just a sheer drop of marble polished to a high sheen, to spook visitors too shy to look their emperor in the eye with their own shadows. Any access to the throne would imply that anyone might sit on the same level as the Emperor, which is a laughable untruth. There is only one man in the galaxy who ranks with the Emperor, who might enjoy that privilege.

And he is enjoying it now. Curled up on the wide right arm of the throne, clad only in a heavy golden collar and a dark, split skirt more interested in exposing his thick, powerful legs than protecting his modesty, is the Emperor’s Hand, Kylo Ren.

The chairman’s eyes flicker to Kylo, tracing the line of the long golden chain that begins at Kylo’s collar and ends in Hux’s gloved fist. Chiiko presses his lips together even further, nearly swallowing them in disapproval. The chairman is representing a Pantora now ruled, after a bloody civil war, by the Severance, a religious order given to denying themselves the finer things in life. The chairman, however, has the benefit of good breeding, and studiously ignores Kylo, making no other sign that he’s noticed the great half-naked man practically draped around the Emperor.

His assistant, however, does not. Her narrow-set eyes widen at the sight of Kylo. She gapes for a moment before fixing her gaze at the relative safety of Hux’s boots, blushing a rather pretty shade of indigo to the roots of her hair.

Of course, both the chairman and his assistant—as well as the rest of the galaxy, now that the Resistance and Snoke alike lie in ashes—have no idea that the concubine adorning the throne is, in truth, the Emperor’s Hand. That this flesh, this face, belongs to the fearsome Kylo Ren.

_What’s the use of a mask,_ Hux had asked Kylo once, a lifetime ago, _if you can’t remove it to your advantage?_

This, then, is their advantage. Lord Ren is known and feared throughout the galaxy. His ability to read and manipulate minds alone drives fear into the hearts of those who would oppose the Emperor. But he is also a known quantity. On those occasions when the Emperor requires the services of his Hand to inspect the hearts and minds of his subjects, Kylo cannot attend court in his full regalia. He would be instantly suspicious, raising mental shields that could not be penetrated without notice. 

A coddled concubine on a gilded leash courts, if not less suspicion, then a sufficiently different kind of suspicion to obscure their true purposes.

Hux reaches up with his right hand to idly pet at the far side of Kylo’s face. Kylo hums and butts his head against his temple, like a distracted but affectionate felinx.

The chairman and his assistant take the knee, the chairman with some clear effort. His assistant swoops in to assist him, but he waves her off. “Forgive me, Your Imperial Majesty,” the Chairman sniffs, straining to his feet, “but I did not realize we were going to have _company_.”

Hux clicks his tongue. “This sweet little thing is hardly _company_ , Chairman,” Hux volleys back easily. Behind the chairman, the assistant mouthes the word “little” to the floor in confusion. True, Kylo is too strapping and scarred to be mistaken for a great beauty, but if it’s rumored that the Emperor’s taste in men runs to rough trade, then all the better for the Emperor’s reputation. 

If it would help,” Hux continues, “you may think of him as a work of art.” He turns his face slightly against Kylo’s to press his cheek against Kylo’s plush mouth, maintaining imperious eye contact with the chairman.

Kylo mouths at his skin, but doesn’t kiss him. His breath is warm and slightly moist on Hux’s skin. “Why have you come to seek audience with the Emperor?” Hux asks.

Chairman Chiiko coughs, and then coughs again. His face flares in frustration before he surrenders to a brief coughing fit that echoes wetly through the throne room. Hux’s nose flares in disgust, even as Kylo nuzzles closer to him, fitting his plush mouth to his ear.

“It’s terminal,” Kylo murmurs. “He does not know.” He kisses Hux’s ear wetly, pressing the curve of his tongue to the shell of his ear. 

Once Chairman Chiiko recovers, he conducts himself as if it never happened. “Pantora has come to seek an audience with the Emperor,” he responds, properly. “She wishes to alter the terms of its trade agreements. The ravages of this terrible war—”

“Hostile takeover,” Kylo murmurs into Hux’s ear. Hux lazily swats at Kylo’s face. That’s information he already has. Kylo huffs without heat before pulling away to lounge more imperiously on the right arm of the throne.

“—have decimated our shipping facilities, as well as a small but vital number of our manufacturing facilities. We can no longer keep up with demand. We need to focus everything we have on recovery.”

Pantora’s value to the Empire lies not in its resources or manufacturing prowess, but in its location. It’s situated right on the border between the Empire proper and the outer reaches that still, occasionally and disappointingly, rebel against the Emperor’s rule. It’s a strategic thoroughfare for both Imperial trade and the Imperial Army. Normally, Hux would deny such a request out of hand—managing the intricate trade agreements of dozens of sovereign planet-states is a headache that ought to remain behind him—but Pantora is too valuable not to hear the Chairman out. And the Chairman has come a long way to ask, especially at his age and in his state. _Compromise_ , Hux thinks, distastefully. He almost wishes he’d forced Ompho to take a Knight with her the last time she left court—it’d be worth a deflowered Knight to be able to do what he pleases with Pantora. 

"The Empire will hear your proposal," he says, instead, inclining his head graciously.

“Thank you, your Imperial Majesty,” Chiiko says. He inclines his head and bows elegantly from his waist. “Pantora formally requests to indefinitely suspend trade to select planets in the Inner Circle.”

“Select planets?” Hux asks. “Can you elaborate?”

“Of course, your Imperial Majesty.” He turns to his assistant, who quails under the Emperor’s gaze. “Io?”

Hux’s right side grows warmer as Kylo sidles closer to him, balancing his chin on the epaulette of Hux’s shoulder. “She’s never been off-world,” Kylo whispers. “She knows she should be frightened of the decadent Circle… but she’s intrigued. Especially about us. How we _fit_ together.” Kylo covers his conversation with a breathy little moan and a kiss to the corner of Hux’s jaw. The idea of shy, sheltered Io curious as to how he fucks his concubine fills him with a familiar heat. It’s been a long day of having Kylo within arm’s reach and being unable to take advantage of all of that warm, willing flesh on display outside of the occasional pet, grope, and squeeze. Hux clears his throat and shakes his head, to steady himself.

“Yes, C-Chairman,” Io stutters. Hux smiles neutrally at her, and she actually meets his eye. But when Kylo affects the same smile, she blushes indigo again—imagining, no doubt. She fixes her eyes on Hux’s chest and recites a litany of planets from memory. The first few would be inconvenient, but not unreasonable, but as Io continues, her rather soothing voice growing steadier, it seems that Pantora is reluctant to trade with all but one planet in the Inner Circle. Hux finds the outlier is immediately suspicious. An alliance against the Crown? They wouldn’t dare. His left hand tightens into a fist, tugging Kylo slightly to him as the movement eats up the slack of his leash. 

“We’d also like to maintain the option of denying trade to worlds whose governments and cultures the Severance objects to on—” the chairman sniffs again, glancing at Kylo—“ _moral_ grounds.”

_Not an alliance then_ , Hux thinks, with a faint sense of relief that he takes for amusement. The Chairman is playing on a much smaller chessboard than Hux had initially given him credit for. The Severance’s newborn theocracy will be easier to control without the influence of the decadent Circle. Hux chokes down a laugh at just how small-minded the Chairman is. But he can’t suppress a smirk when Kylo, in an uncharacteristic show of comic timing, makes a filthy noise into his ear. It’s in jest, but Hux’s cock can’t tell that. It twitches in his trousers. Hux crosses his legs. 

Kylo drops his head back to Hux’s shoulder, nuzzling against his neck. Hux winds his arm behind Kylo to drape his fingers over the side of his face, slowly petting his hair. Kylo makes a low, humming noise of contentment that’s loud enough through the throne room.

It’s too much for the Chairman’s sensibilities. “Is it _really_ necessary for your _catamite_ to be present, your Imperial Majesty?” the Chairman suddenly asks, irritated.

Io gasps. “ _Uncle!_ ”

“Not her uncle,” Kylo says lazily, turning his face into Hux’s neck. “Her father. He’s never acknowledged her. She thinks she’s supposed to be grateful for the crumbs she gets.”

What little pity Hux has felt for Chairman Chiiko—a dying man whose ambitions do not extend beyond his native planet’s atmosphere—evaporates. He could at least have had the courage of his convictions. Instead, he’s an opportunist, feigning piety for scraps. His lip curls in disgust.

“The Empire can live without Pantora,” Kylo says, and leans up to mouth along his jawline to his ear. “But can Pantora live without the Empire?” Kylo presses a kiss to the side of his face, and then butts his forehead against the same spot, like a needy felinx.

“My _concubine_ ,” Hux corrects loftily, “is here to remind me of both my privileges _and_ my duties as Emperor.” Hux smiles down at the Chairman. “You are welcome to make the alterations in your trade agreements.”

Kylo pulls back a little in surprise. Hux ignores him. “Truly, your Imperial Majesty?” Chairman Chiiko asks, tentatively.

“Truly,” Hux says, earnest smile turning sharp. “Of course, you would have to cede the benefits and privileges of a planet-state of the Empire to do so.”

Chairman Chiiko blanches. “Your Imperial Majesty?” he asks. 

“The Empire is a machine, Chairman,” Hux says, as if explaining something to a very dull child. “Each member-state is an important cog in the machine. If a cog wears out—or, in this case, is no longer interested in benefitting the whole—it must be replaced. These proposed trade bans indicate that you no longer have any interest in benefitting the Empire. So why should the Empire benefit Pantora?”

The Chairman’s mouth open and closes. For a moment, it seems as though he will protest, but he coughs. As if defeated by his own failing body, his shoulders slump. “I see, your Imperial Majesty. I… _withdraw_ my request.” 

“It is done,” Hux says. And then, in a fit of inspiration, he continues. “But I would not have you come all this way for nothing. I would offer you a boon.”

Chiiko grimaces. “Your Imperial Majesty—” 

“Not you,” Hux says, smirking. “Her.” He gestures casually to Io. “I would hate for your visit to the capital be marred by the rejection of your superior’s proposal.”

“Oh, she likes what she’s seen,” Kylo murmurs, nuzzling against him.

Io blinks so furiously for a moment that she seems startled to discover her voice works. “Your gardens,” Io says suddenly. “I would see the Emperor’s gardens before I return home.”

“Very well,” Hux says, inclining his head graciously. “Speak to the steward on your way out. I would be happy to give you a personal tour of the Emperor’s gardens.”

“A personal—” Chairman Chiiko starts to sputter in protest, but the throne room doors swing open heavily with a great, cracking groan, startling both Chiiko and Io.

“May the light of the Empire shine on you always,” Hux says. 

Io, seemingly spurred on by the Emperor’s favor, takes Chiiko by the arm and bustles him out. She’s standing a little taller, Hux notices. He approves.

When the doors slam shut, Kylo sits up, hair brushing against Hux’s face with the movement. He stretches, groaning, and then sprawls languidly on the wide arm of the throne. Hux lets him, the leash falling slack.

“A personal tour of the Emperor’s gardens?” Kylo asks. 

“Io seems much more open to the Inner Circle than her father is,” Hux says, rubbing at his eyes. It’s been quite a long and frustrating audience day. “I imagine her reputation at home will make favor in the court all the more enticing. Pantora can be controlled through force, but it’s much easier to rule at that distance through a sympathetic ear.” 

“You wouldn’t have said that a year ago,” Kylo says.

Hux turns to face Kylo directly, looking up into the full, tapered moon of his face. “I wouldn’t have said a lot of things a year ago,” he says. Hux casually reaches up to free Kylo from the collar, but Kylo catches his wrist. His long, thick-knuckled fingers easily overlap around Hux’s wrist, even over his glove and the crimson cuff of his tunic.  Kylo’s dark eyes search Hux’s as his face flushes.

They have been through a great deal together. The ruin of the Resistance, the defiance of Snoke, the rise of an Empire. It’s changed them, both on their own and in the ways that they come together. But even after all of that, Kylo still has trouble asking for what he needs.

But Hux is a benevolent ruler to those who deserve it, and this is the man who won his throne for him. He will give him everything he needs.

Hux turns his wrist to cup Kylo’s cheek, gently breaking out of Kylo’s loose hold. Swiping his thumb over Kylo’s lower lip, he presses it down to expose Kylo’s teeth. Hux pushes his thumb gently in, until Kylo’s gorgeous lips frame the leather of his gloved thumb.

“What would _you_ have of the Emperor, my concubine?”

Kylo’s eyes widen and his lips almost curve into a smile at Hux deigning to play along. “My only wish is to serve you,” Kylo says, around his thumb.  He curls his tongue around the leather, wetting it. The chain is still wrapped around Hux’s left hand. He tugs on it, pulling Kylo’s head down for a kiss. Kylo licks into his mouth greedily, turning into the kiss. One of his big hands lands on Hux’s thigh. Hux uncrosses his legs and Kylo slides his hand up his inner thigh to greedily palm at Hux’s rising erection. Hux groans lightly into Kylo’s mouth. He has spent all day ignoring his body’s responses to Kylo on such tempting display. He’s eager to slake his lust. 

Hux pulls back, eyes catching on Kylo’s eternally obscene mouth. He can think of a good use for it. “Go on,” Hux encourages, pulling back and glancing significantly down at his crotch. “Kneel for your Emperor.”

Kylo lifts his head, and Hux gives him the slack he needs to slide off the arm of throne and obey. Hux smirks at the sight of Kylo between his knees and scoots forward, to the edge of the throne. Kylo always looks impressive naked, but there’s something about the way he’s staying in character—an enticing, pliant tilt to his shoulders, a conscious pout of his full lips—that suits him. 

Kylo looks up at him from below dark lashes, the taut, pale skin of his scar bisecting his face. Hux nods, and Kylo reaches up to undo Hux’s fly. Hux is wearing underwear—unlike Kylo, he remembers all over again, heat pulsing through him—and Kylo impatiently tugs the waistband down to free Hux’s cock.

Hux sighs as it’s freed, bobbing slightly in the cool air of the throne room and stiffening to full attention. He’d be lying if the sight of his cock protruding from his impeccable dress uniform didn’t appeal to him, with its contrasts of the professional and the profane. Kylo, for his part, looks hungrily at it, but then glances up at Hux, as if for permission. Which would be laughable—Hux is rather fond of Kylo manhandling him into dark corners and taking liberties with him—if he wasn’t playing the concubine so well.

Kylo swallows. “May I suck your cock, your Imperial Majesty?” he asks, lowly. Hux’s cock twitches, and Kylo’s eyes drop to it, widening as if they’re not already on the most intimate terms. 

Hux reaches down and cups Kylo’s face. “You may.”

Instead of swallowing it down in one impressive, greedy motion, Kylo approaches Hux’s cock tentatively, gently pressing his open mouth to the head. Kylo presses his plush lower lip to Hux’s frenulum, almost balancing it there. Hux groans at the feel of Kylo’s hot breath on his cock head. It’s such an appealing sight that Hux leaks clear fluid. Kylo gives an uncharacteristic breathy laugh and glances up at him, tonguing the precome out of his slit without otherwise using his mouth.

“Oh, you’re good at this,” Hux says. “I knew you’d be. I knew the moment I saw you that those pretty lips were meant to be wrapped around my cock.”

Despite the praise, Kylo pulls back slightly. He wraps a hand around Hux’s cock, pressing his thumb gently against the cleft of Hux’s frenulum. He pivots Hux’s cock back towards his stomach, cupping the head with the rest of his fingers to avoid getting any fluids on Hux’s tunic. He begins to lick and nip at the underside of Hux’s cock, mouthing down to the base. He briefly buries his head in the crease of Hux’s thigh, blindly and wetly tonguing at the delicate skin there. Hux pets his head as he audibly sniffs at Hux’s pubic hair, as if he can’t get enough of Hux’s body.

“It’s like you were trained exactly to my specifications,” Hux murmurs. And that’s, technically speaking, true. Kylo broke his vow of chastity for him, and Hux had had to teach him everything, a task made much easier by Kylo’s insatiable enthusiasm. A possessive thrill runs through Hux at knowing he’s laid claim to Kylo so _thoroughly_.

His reverie of their early days is interrupted, however, by Kylo licking a stripe up the underside of his cock and then finally fitting his mouth over the head. Kylo sucks, cheeks hollowing, and then slowly begins to take Hux’s entire length. He doesn’t need to go slow—they both know that—but slowly watching his cock disappear into Kylo’s mouth and the familiar tightness of his throat makes Hux’s cock throb and his breathing catch.

He cards his gloved hand through Kylo’s hair fondly, pulling and tugging a little to make Kylo vocalize prettily around his cock. One of Kylo’s hands begins to abandon its position on Hux’s thighs, but Hux catches it with his free hand, pressing their palms together.

“Don’t touch yourself,” Hux says, softly but commandingly. Kylo glances up at him, eyebrows furrowing for a moment, but he obeys. Kylo's grip on his hand tightens, and he begins to slowly fuck his throat on Hux's cock. 

"I wish the court could see you like this," Hux sighs, closing his eyes, surrendering to the tight wetness of Kylo’s mouth and throat. “See how perfectly suited you are to your purpose. But not on your knees, I think. They wouldn’t get to see your beautiful face if you were sucking my cock, would they?” 

Kylo’s head moves laterally in his lap, shifting the sensation as if it’s shimmering over Hux’s cock. Hux groans languidly, cock pulsing in response. “No, you belong on my lap. Sitting on my cock.”

Kylo makes a low moan around his cock in approval. Hux smirks. “Oh, you’d _like_ that,” Hux teases. Kylo looks up at him, eyes fogging with lust. “But you’d have to be patient. You’d have to control yourself. Even if I fuck into you a little just to relieve the tedium.” 

Kylo pulls off, swallowing his mouthful of precome and spit. “What if I couldn't?” he asks, low voice make hoarse by the drag of Hux's cock against the walls of his throat. “What if I came? Just from that?” His lips look tender and slick, like an extension of the smooth, wet heat inside of him. Hux is nearly overwhelmed by the desire to grab him by the hair and fuck his mouth until he comes.

Instead, he answers his question. “Then everyone at court would see how beautiful you are when you come, and they’d want you too.” He lets himself pull Kylo’s face towards his cock, but Kylo stares up at him, enraptured. “They’d want to fuck you, ride you, _taste_ you. I’d have to fuck you in front of all of them, show them how beautifully you take my cock, just to show them that you belong to _me_ and me _alone_.”

It’s such an appealing image that Hux leaks. His cock is so wet with Kylo’s saliva that it dribbles down his shaft, threatening to splash onto the throne. But Kylo surges forward, licking it off before swallowing him whole. 

Kylo groans a low note around his cock, and Hux squeezes his eyes shut as he feels the pleasurable pressure of his orgasm builds in his balls and the base of his cock. He opens them to find Kylo looking up at him. His face—cheeks red with extertion, eyes glazed with lust, lips stretched and swollen—looks wrecked. He looks perfect. 

“You’re beautiful,” Hux murmurs, tracing his thumb over the taut, shining skin of his scar. Kylo swallows, making Hux gasp, and his throat grows thick with emotion around Hux's cock. The sweet pressure and muscular wetness of Kylo’s throat pushes him over the edge. 

Out of habit, he fists his hand in Kylo’s hair to fix him in place as he fucks his load into Kylo’s wet, willing throat. He groans, long and low, the obscene sound echoing through the throne room. Kylo presses his cheek against Hux’s inner thigh, swallowing in steady pulses around his softening cock. He pulls off, an obscene string of saliva and come connecting their bodies, before licking Hux clean with short, tender flicks of his tongue. _Like a felinx,_ Hux thinks, hazily. It’s almost too much stimulation, but Hux is loathe to discourage Kylo. 

Kylo rises on his knees, panting. His lips are swollen and wet, and Hux grabs his chin to kiss him. He can taste the salt of his spend on Kylo’s tongue, and shudders, despite his satiety, at the fact that he tastes like the man he belongs to. 

Hux pulls back, taking in the vision before him—Kylo’s broad, powerful, and scarred body, his extravagantly featured face, the way curls of his hair are sticking to his face with sweat. His chest tightens with possessiveness and some other, more tender emotion, but he’s distracted from his internal life by the sight of Kylo’s skirt hanging awkwardly on his erection.

“Enjoying your work?” Hux teases. He tugs the glove off of his left hand with his teeth. Reaching slightly down, he grasps Kylo’s cock through the fabric, stroking slowly down to pull the sheer fabric taut over the sensitive head. He watches, bemused, as Kylo shudders at the touch and pulses precome, soaking the grey fabric. Hux leans in close enough to kiss Kylo. “Do you want to come?”

Kylo squeezes his eyes shut and nods. “Not until your Emperor commands it,” Hux says, smirking. Kylo’s eyes snap open and his face instinctively screws up in frustration, but his face goes slack as Hux peels away the skirt to get a more intimate grip on him. The thick curve of his cock is familiar to Hux’s hand.

Hux thinks of teasing him as long as he can, in retribution, but he makes too tempting a picture. His hips quiver from the effort of trying not to fuck into Hux’s hand, and he’s chewing on his lower lip with the effort not to whine, not to beg. Low, desperate sounds escape him anyway, and Hux relents. 

“Come for me,” Hux breathes. “Your Emperor commands it.” 

Kylo obeys with a short, hoarse “ _ah!_ ”, his body tensing before he spills come into Hux’s hand with a hoarse grunt. His head drops and his shoulders sag. They stay like that for a moment, as Kylo’s breathing evens out, the rasping sound of it smoothed by the acoustics of the throne room. 

_Strange,_ Hux thinks. He used to think of Kylo’s skin as marmoreal, back on the _Finalizer_ , but in truth, against real marble, he’s unspeakably vivid. Warm.

_His_.

When Kylo takes a deep, settling breath and looks up, meeting Hux’s eyes, Hux presses the dry side of his hand to the corner of Kylo’s mouth. He nods encouragingly, but Kylo needs no instruction. He dips his head, gazing at Hux from under his dark lashes— _coquettish to the last_ , Hux thinks—and laps up his own come from Hux’s palm in three long, broad strokes of his tongue. He presses a wet kiss to the palm of Hux’s hand and then turns his head to nuzzle into it. 

_Like a felinx_ , Hux thinks, yet again, caressing Kylo’s face, but, looking into Kylo’s eyes, hazy with satisfaction he corrects himself. No, not like a felinx. Like a wild beast, tame to his hand but dangerous to all others. Strange tenderness washes over Hux like a wave. 

“You are the finest thing I possess,” Hux tells him, and he’s not sure if he’s saying it as the Emperor or as himself. 

 


End file.
